Banishing His Demons
by cesmith
Summary: What does Aya do to help himself forget his nightmares? No pairings. Mild violence. Oneshot.


Title: Banishing His Demons

Author: cesmith

Beta: OtakuPrincess

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz or any of the characters. They were used without prior permission. No profit is made from this fanfiction.

Pairings: None

Warnings: Mild violence

A/N: Written for the 7th challenge on ffdotnetauthorsdotproboards29dotcom Message Board. Write a story about a character of your choice, and flowers.

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Banishing His Demons

Aya groaned and opened his eyes, the nightmare insistently clinging to his consciousness. The dreams had been exceptionally fierce last night. His victims had paraded before his minds eye, their mutilated bodies on display for him to see all of his handiwork. Amputated arms, covered with dripping blood, pulled at his clothes, beckoning him to join them. Intestines twisted like rope around his body, restraining him. Severed heads, held high, their twisted mouths shouting his name, accusing him, condemning him to share their torment. "It would be so easy for the damned to join the damned." they had chanted incessantly. Slowly, their voices had faded, only to be replaced by the vision of his sister, lying in her hospital bed. Suddenly her eyes had opened, staring straight at him, through him, reaching deep into his bloodstained soul. Her eyes were searching for her brother Ran, not Aya the murderer, Aya the assassin. The tears she had shed for him when she recognized his cursed and doomed soul were his undoing. He woke with matching tears on his face, trembling. His sweat soaked body belied the chill of the room.

Aya knew there was no sense in trying to go back to sleep, the dreams would only return to haunt him. Not bothering to look at the clock, he gathered up some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom. He needed a long, hot shower to relax him, to warm him. The temperature of the water was hot, tingeing his skin pink, but Aya didn't feel it.

Lost in his dark thoughts, Aya shivered as the water turned cold. They really needed to get a larger hot water heater, not that any of his housemates would need a warm shower anytime soon. Omi would be the first, he had morning classes, but that was still hours away. Next would be Ken. He would make the morning deliveries and then disappear until the afternoon rush, coaching his kids. Last would be Yohji. He might grace them with an appearance by late morning.

Finishing his shower in the cold water, Aya quickly toweled dry and dressed. The shower had only partially helped. His victims were banished but his sister's tears still lingered in his memory.

Since the shower had failed to work its magic, failed to drive away _all_ of his demons, Aya fled to his worktable to start the day's floral arrangements. Amazingly, arranging flowers was something that cold, unemotional Aya was extremely good at. There were only three things that he could say were positives about his being an assassin for Kritiker. He easily earned enough blood money to pay his sister's hospital bills, he could _almost _call the others his friends, and he had learned all about the floral business. It was an odd plus, but surprisingly true.

Sometimes Aya wondered how much his old self, Ran, would have actually liked being a florist. Ran probably would have enjoyed it, working with his hands, shaping the many flowers, matching and contrasting colors. But, Aya also knew Ran would never have even tried it. It would have invited more criticism from his father, prompted more arguments between his parents. No, Ran would never have sought out an activity that would have brought additional displeasure from his family. And yet, it was the one activity that gave Aya peace, shut out the voices of his victims and brought him closer to the Ran he used to be.

On top of the pile of floral requests, in Yohji's sloppy, barely legible scrawl was a description of an arrangement that a customer had ordered. The client had specifically asked that Aya make the arrangement. It was supposed to be a very special bouquet, delivered to his traditional girlfriend, declaring his undying love through flowers.

The customer wanted a wide assortment of flowers, and it was obvious to Aya that the boyfriend had simply gone down a list of flowers, selecting them not for their beauty, but for their meanings. However, it was easy for Aya to picture several of the flowers together. The deep red roses, representing beauty, next to the white tulips. The pure white of the tulip's petals, tinged with a blush of red, signifying his declaration of love. Representing the bonds of love, the huge, bell-shaped flowers of the honeysuckle plant added a sweet fragrance to the bouquet as well as a splash of sun bright yellow. The pink cloves, for true love, with their small blossoms, would make a perfect substitute for the white baby's breath, contrasting with the brilliant red of the roses, complimenting the white of the tulips. The lily of the valley, meaning a return to happiness, was a lovely, delicate, white, bell-shaped blossom, but it was too short to go with the taller flowers, unless … yes… a multi-tiered arrangement. That _might _work…

Snipping off a few of the green leaves, in order to better see the fragile bells, Aya placed the lily of the valley in the light jade, octagon shaped holder he had chosen. Yes, that worked. This way he could vary the colors and work in some of the smaller, more delicate flowers on the list.

Aya's hands moved quickly now, almost on their own, with little conscious though from him. The arrangement was already finished in his mind, his hands simply worked to create the reality.

Half an hour later, Aya was able to sit back and appreciate his work. If the customer's girlfriend was as traditional as they were led to believe, this should do the trick.

Feeling much better, demons, and tears banished, Aya decided it was time to go have a cup of tea, and maybe some breakfast. Then possibly another shower, one he could enjoy this time, if no one else woke up.

The flowers had never failed him… yet. He fervently hoped they never would.


End file.
